


(if i time it right) the thunder breaks

by CinderScoria



Series: her name is jade [13]
Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/F, Gen, first time doing Maxie's POV yay, light trigger warning for depression, spoilers through the season three finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderScoria/pseuds/CinderScoria
Summary: (i wanna love you, but i don't know how)Or, Maxine struggles to understand Five's aversion to antidepressants and comes to realize she doesn't know the Runner at all





	

_ Dysthymia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Post-traumatic Stress Disorder… _

Maxine presses her lips into a thin line, dark eyes scanning over the personnel file in her hands. It’s been three years since Five came to Abel and about that long since she’d read through the file Mullins had sent over on their “temporary loan.” Truth be told, she’d barely glanced at the background and psychological portions, more interested in what she had to know about the Runner’s body in order to treat her properly. But years later, Five’s physical well being isn’t what’s concerning her now. It’s been three months since that awful day in London and Runner Five… hasn’t been doing well.

The doctor had to seriously dig to find this damn file, and reading through it now she’s wishing she’d paid better attention to it. The time stamp is dated almost four years ago—Five would have been fifteen when Mullins took her in. Maxine closes her eyes and tries to imagine the Runner that young and already dealing with the imbalances in her brain. She’s good at hiding it. Five can wipe her face cleaner than anyone Maxine knows—including Janine. Maybe that’s why it’s taken this long for Maxine to look up exactly what is wrong with her Runner.

She skips the background like she always does—everyone deserves some privacy, although what Five could have possibly been up to at fifteen she couldn’t imagine—and peers at the list of medications Five had been on. Trazodone, Zoloft, and Lamotrigine.

“Two out of three ain’t bad,” she murmurs to herself.

“Maxie?”

Maxine jumps but manages to hold onto the file, whirling to find Paula standing in the doorway of the lab, dark eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing up so late? It’s past curfew.”

“I know,” Maxine admits, crossing to her so she could give her a kiss. “I was thinking.”

“About what?” Paula places a hand on Maxine’s belly and they stop a moment to grin at each other, amazed all over again they’re going to be mothers, before Maxine kisses her again, softer this time.

“I’m happy,” she says quietly, moving to put her hand on Paula’s. “I am here, with you, and our baby, and nothing is wrong.”

Paula smiles into her mouth. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there.”

Maxine draws back to look into her eyes, serious for a second. “Did you know that Runner Five has brought in more antidepressants than any Runner in Abel, ever?”

“No?”

“She has. I’ve been keeping track.” Maxine holds up the file. “Mullins diagnosed her with multiple mental and emotional disorders. She had been on medication before coming to Abel, but as far as I know she hasn’t taken any since.”

Paula catches on immediately. “You’re worried about her.”

“I’ve been worried since Moonchild made her hurt Sam,” Maxine tells her. The memory of it is still so raw—she’d been woken from her pod to Janine attempting to hold down a damn near hysterical Sam insisting through a half-strangled voice that they needed to find Five, Jody lying unconscious on a cot and Five missing in action, again. She hadn’t known what to think, couldn’t even get the full story out of Sam until she’d threatened to tie him down so she could treat him. Even then, his story made no sense: Five sneaking back into Abel, opening the gates, knocking out Jody and then confronting him in the comms shack where they’d hidden the ZRD; how she’d smiled as her right hand crushed his windpipe and her left raised her ax to deliver the final blow; how she’d stopped, eyes widening, spilling over with tears, and then she’d dropped her ax and sprinted from the room, leaving Sam distraught and hoarse and baffled in his shack.

“And then Simon,” Paula guesses, breaking Maxine from the memory. “He and Five were close, even after everything.”

Maxine nods. She’s seen Five on the roof of the bunkhouse, fingering the rosary beads and cross Simon had given to her before he’d put on the helmet. “Living an apocalypse is traumatic enough, but come on, Paula. The girl’s not even nineteen yet.” She draws a breath. “I wanted… to find a way to thank her. For not giving up on me, for bringing you back to me, for everything she’s done for us—for Abel, for the world, really. With all the medication she brings in on every mission we have more than enough to get her started. I want her to be happy, too.”

Paula smiles at her and runs a hand through her hair before kissing her again, one more time, lips gentle. “It’s a wonderful idea,” she tells her.

“Why thank you, darling,” Maxine teases with a laugh. “Go on back to bed. I’m going to write a formal request to Hiram and then I’ll join you.”

“All right, love.” Paula’s hand lingers where it rests on Maxine’s stomach before she slips out the door and into the night.

Maxine grins, breathless all of a sudden, wondering how the hell she got so lucky.

-

It takes two days for the request to go through, but Maxine knows Hiram likes to be thorough. There’s a lot of danger in prescribing medication nowadays, especially for the mentally ill, because there’s only one professional psychiatrist in the entire township and the man has a lot on his plate on a good day. Monitoring closely is a thing of the past now—but trial and error could be disastrous when some of the medications could literally kill you.

Maxine has a little more faith in Five than that. She’s survived everything life has thrown at her so far, after all. Maxine just hopes she can make her a little more comfortable doing so, that’s all.

Luckily, it’s Five’s rest day when the request goes through, so Maxine sets to tracking her down.

Where does Five go when she isn’t running? Maxine grins to herself and heads straight for Sam’s shack.

Only to find their head radio operator sprawled out on his cot, dead to the world and snoring—decidedly alone. Despite herself, Maxine has to smile softly at the sight. Paula may be her soul mate but Sam Yao is undoubtedly her best friend in the entire world, and seeing him finally able to sleep makes her heart hurt a little bit.

They almost always schedule his rest days with Five’s, so the fact that she isn’t here with him is kind of puzzling, though if the Rice Krispie Treat wrappers are anything to go by she’d been in at one point. Maxine eases the door shut again and gnaws on her lower lip, deciding to check the track next.

Five’s only satisfied when she’s doing something to help the Township. If Maxine had been paying better attention, she would have caught onto her Runner’s self worth issues back when she’d seemed convinced that they would kick her out of the Township if she didn’t bring back a certain number of items out on her run. Maybe that’s Maxine’s fault, for making her swing by the hospital that first run in—the same hospital their previous Five, Alice, had been caught and killed in—before they’d granted her sanctuary. But that was before she’d gotten to know the girl, barely seventeen then, so young and so hard and angry and violent. Her brief flashes of mischievous humor, her gentleness around children and animals, how Sam made her soft, how Sara made her strong. How she’d understood that one day at the damn barn, when Maxine  _ had  _ to see if the message was from Paula, enough that she willingly put both herself and Five in harm’s way just to know. By all rights and purposes, Five should have been furious with her. But instead she’d nodded and gripped her arms and saved her life and eventually, finally, brought Paula home to her.

Unexpected tears spring to Maxine’s eyes thinking about it, and she brushes them away, surprised and annoyed. There’s no reason to feel guilty about it years later. Five was doing her job. She’d been there when they’d found Paula’s “last” transmission. She’d been used as a hostage to lure Maxine out after being captured that first time by Van Ark. And when that was all over, she’d dropped at Maxine’s feet out of sheer exhaustion, her body pushed to the limit, and Maxine had realized suddenly and with violent clarity that Jade Black, Runner Five, was her  _ friend  _ and she was terrified she was never going to see her again.

Maxine shakes herself of the memories and promptly blames all this sentimental nonsense on her rampaging pregnancy hormones.

The track is really just a carved out loop in what must have been a crop field, though it’s been paved now and the dirt has been packed to make it more even.  There are bleachers—wooden and hand built. They have to improvise in an apocalypse, after all.

There Five is, jogging at a steady pace, earphones stuck in her ears as she circles the track. One of Simon’s quirks—he liked to pick up ipods, mp3 players and walkmans and hand them to the other Runners (after Jack, Eugene, Phil and Zoe had ripped them of their tracks, of course). They listen to the music as they train until the battery runs out, and then onto the next one.

Five’s the only one who still does it now. Maybe she’s trying to keep something of Simon still alive in the aftermath. Maxine’s not one to snatch away a person’s coping mechanisms. 

She waves Five down on her next go around, fingering the pill bottles in her pocket, feeling oddly excited about this entire thing. There goes that sentiment again.

Five is wary as she slows and takes her headphones from her ears. She signs a quick, one handed  _ What’s up?  _ at her as she approaches.

“I’ve been doing some reading,” Maxine starts out, trying to shove her sudden nerves to the side so she can get this done. “Your file, actually, the one Mullins had on you? Anyway, I saw that you used to be on medication before you came to Abel and you stopped, so I dug around a bit.” She draws the bottles from her pocket and offers them to the Runner. “I only got 50 milligram tablets of Trazodone and 200 milligram tablets of Zoloft, so monitoring is going to be weird. We’re going to have to be creative to make it last, but it should be okay if we go slow, I think.”

She beams, waiting for Five to respond. The teen stares at the bottles for an uncomfortably long second before shaking her head.  _ I don’t want it, _ she signs.

“What?” Maxine blinks, trying to figure out if she read her hands wrong. “Why not? It’s all right here, Five, I don’t—”

And Five cuts her off with a set jaw, signing,  _ I’m fine. I don’t need it. _

“Five—” But the Runner has already stuck her headphones back in her ears and takes off again, at a faster pace this time.

Maxine stares dumbfounded at her back as she puts distance between them.

-

“I can’t believe this!” Maxine rages, pacing the length of the comm’s shack. “Do you know how much negotiating I had to do to even snag her spot with the highest dose? Because I know that she has a high tolerance for medication, I knew that from experience! I knew she’d want to work her way up to 200 mg, I  _ knew _ that about her, and she doesn’t even want to try!”

Sam, sleepy-eyed and decidedly unhappy about being awoken from his nap, says, “Maxine, I really think you might be overthinking this—”

Maxine whirls on him. He startles backwards, eyes widening, as she leans into his face and hisses, “I am  _ not overreacting.” _

“I said over _ thinking!” _ he protests, hands up. “Listen, Maxie, it’s really nice that you’re doing this for her, but you have to understand that Five isn’t the type to accept help from anyone. She thinks it implies that she’s weak.”

“I just wanted to help!” Maxine says incredulously.

“I know, I just—” Sam pinches the bridge of his nose. “You tell her that, you could probably get her to take the meds, but Maxie, it’s taken her this long to even think that we might actually  _ want  _ her here at Abel.”

Maxine glares and breathes hard through her nose. “What the hell does that mean?”

“She told me once,” Sam says, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, “that she is okay with being needed, even if she isn’t wanted. She thinks that if she has a job to do she  _ has _ to do it, no exceptions, or we’ll cut her.”

“I… what?”

“Yeah.” Sam looks up at her from his cot and smiles a little, though the expression holds no mirth. “If you imply that the medication is to help her do her job, she’ll take it, but she’ll also think that she’s failing and that probably won’t help at all. So.”

Maxine, floored, drops into the chair at his desk and stares at the wall for a long moment. The anger dissipates immediately, leaving her tired and sad. “Okay then,” she utters. “How do I get her to  _ not  _ think that?”

Sam ponders on it. “I don’t know if you can, to be honest Maxine. She’s always been that way. It’s taken me a long time to get her to understand that she’s enough by herself for me, regardless of what she does or doesn’t do.” He grins, self deprecating. “Actually I think it took her almost killing me to get it through her head. That I’m her friend and I accept her for who she is.”

Hurt floods through her. “She doesn’t think we’re friends?”

“No, it’s not that. She holds herself to a certain expectation, who she thinks  _ you _ approve of.” Sam runs a hand through his unruly black hair. “She’s good at it, I didn’t catch it for months. It’s like she conforms to whoever she thinks is best for you. Like how with me she’s gentler, with Janine she slips into an almost military persona, with Simon she would pull pranks and joke around, you know?”

“Well yeah, obviously,” Maxine says, furrowing her brow. “We all experience varying levels of comfort around the people we’re closest to, how much of ourselves we can reveal depending on who we’re talking to.”

“Yes but Maxine, you’re not hearing me.” Sam leans closer, dark eyes bright. “She does it with  _ everyone. _ It’s like those flip books, yeah? The ones where you can change the outfit by flipping the pages? Except I don’t think she has a base, Maxie. Like all of these different masks make up her face. I don’t think she even knows who she is at her core.”

“You seem to know,” Maxine points out.

“Yes, but it took three years and a near death experience to get us to where we are,” he counters.

“So you’re saying I should get her to try to kill me.”

“No! Oh, you’re joking,” he realizes, before giving her a light smack on the arm. “That’s not funny, Maxie! You’re one of the mothers of my child, I need you to stay alive! Good grief,” he mutters to himself. “Anyway, listen, Five is just a really tough shell to crack, but what you’re doing for her is  _ good. _ You should keep at it.”

Maxine studies him for a second before it dawns on her. “You want me to get her to  _ want  _ the meds,” she says.

Sam winks at her. “Got it in one.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

The radio operator shrugs and grins. “Convince her you want her instead of need her.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“You can do it, Maxine,” he says sincerely, “you’re the most stubborn person I know.” He reaches out so he can snag her hand and squeezes it once. “If anyone can convince our Runner that she’s loved, it’s you.”

Maxine sighs. “As if anyone can say no to that face. All right,” she concedes, giving him a small smile as she makes her way to the door. “I’ll try.”

“That’s my girl.”

-

Maxine stands at the edge of the track, worrying her lip and gazing at the far end of the Township. The walls they erected have spread the bigger Abel grows, so what was once a straight cement wall is now a winding ridge that curves alongside the treeline, providing some additional cover.

Five is long gone, of course, probably took off the second Maxine stormed off to find Sam. Maxine just needs a second to process all of this. All… of it.

On one hand, she’s hurt by Five rejecting the medication. She can’t help but feel resentful—her going out of her way to help her friend, all of that work for nothing, Five dismissing it with barely a glance had  _ stung _ and she isn’t entirely sure why. But at the same time… she remembers being young and angry, unable to be herself around the people she cared about. Growing up gay, black, and female at the same time as being the daughter of a wealthy business tycoon did not coincide with the idea of the typical Midwestern teenager. Maxine had to fight for every good thing in her life, and she’d had to fight everyone doing it. So she understands, sort of, where Five is coming from. That at least warrants some measure of patience.

A hand appears on her shoulder. Maxine jumps a mile and whirls to find the subject of her thoughts standing behind her, looking inappropriately abashed—be it from her earlier behavior or the fact that she’d scared Maxine just now, the doctor isn’t sure.

“Five,” she exclaims. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

The teen flashes her a grim smile, no teeth. Maxine wants to kick herself. Of course Five can’t call out a hello.  _ Off to a fantastic start already, Maxie. _

_ I’m sorry, _ Five signs to her.  _ Thank you for the pills. _

Maxine stares at her. “You’ll take them?”

Five watches her with a furrowed brow, like she’s trying to read between the lines.  _ That’s what you want, right? _ she signs with a shrug.  _ Doctor’s orders? _

Maxine wants to tear her hair out. This is like trying to navigate a minefield! She inhales deep, keeping a lid on her emotions. “What do you want, Five?”

Five doesn’t have to sign this one—the startled look on her face speaks for itself. Maxine elaborates, “Do you want the meds or not? If you don’t want them I’m not going to force them down your throat. I just figured it would be nice to balanced again. I know you’re going through a hard time, especially lately—”

And at that Five snorts and throws her hands up.  _ Everyone is going through a hard time right now. _ She spreads her arms wide, indicating the apocalypse as a whole probably.  _ Everyone has something wrong with them. _

Maxine holds the teen’s eyes. “I don’t care about everybody else. I care about you.”

Brief incredulity crosses Five’s face, and doesn’t that just hurt more than the barbed words the Runner is signing? Does she really not believe that she’s her friend?

Five seems to read her face, because she shakes her head and looks away.  _ It’s not that, _ she signs.  _ I know you care. _

“You just don’t believe me.”

_ I believe you think you care, _ Five counters. 

“You don’t think I know you well enough to know?”

_ I think I lie well. _

It’s said so simply Maxine is startled into silence. Five is very matter of fact stating it, almost cold, but Maxine knows what she’s doing.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she prods softly.

Five sighs, caught. She has to think about it, looking anywhere but Maxine’s face.  _ It’s not that I don’t want it, _ she allows finally.  _ There are so many other people, they need it more. _

“And you think you don’t need it.”

_ I’m alive, right? _ It’s signed with a sardonic grin, such a spot on reflection of Sam’s earlier self-deprecating smirk it’s eerie. Maxine suddenly understands exactly what Sam meant when talking about Five’s masks.

She shakes herself and carefully maps out how to tread going forward. “Five, you’re not a robot. Nobody expects you to keep going when you reach your limit—”

_ But they do, _ Five corrects.  _ I do have to. Or the world ends, remember? Or people die?  _ And her face crumples.  _ People die anyway. _

Maxine knows that’s for Simon. She pushes the pang back. “Five, death is not your limit. You know that, don’t you? You don’t exist just to keep other people happy. You do it really well, and I will forever be grateful for that, but I’d rather have you happy and failing than—”

_ Happy? _ Five’s brows shoot up, and she huffs a laugh that’s all air and no voice.  _ “Happy” isn’t real. I cannot fix me not being happy. I cannot be happy  _ for you. _ It doesn’t work like that. _

She seems to be on the verge of something. Maxine studies her. Her shoulders are rigid straight, her almond shaped eyes bright and wide, her lips pursed, her fingers fists. It’s then Maxine realizes, all of a sudden, that nothing she says is going to help Five.

She doesn’t understand the girl at all.

That said, she can listen. Five needs to get this out. She doesn’t talk much, Maxine knows, outside of mission reports and whatever conversations she has with Sam. And it can’t be nearly enough to get out everything the teen feels on any given day. That’s unhealthy even without them being smack dab in the middle of an apocalypse, where they can die at any moment and lose people they care about. Maxine doesn’t know a damn thing about where Five came from and who she’s lost, and that’s hardly fair. The least she can do is provide the outlet Five sorely needs, even if she doesn’t realize it.

So she waits, and sure enough, Five’s hands come up again.  _ Maybe before, it would be okay for me to have pills, _ she says, fingers trembling.  _ Before, when I was not the majority and I was sick and I deserved special treatment. But now, everyone is sick and broken and wrong. I can’t complain about it hurting because everyone hurts. It doesn’t make me special. _

Maxine has to bite back her argument. Nothing she says Five will believe, but  _ God  _ that’s so wrong Five  _ is _ special she  _ is  _ important she  _ is  _ allowed to hurt and get help for it and to be treated like she’s precious— 

But Five isn’t done.  _ If I can do my job, I can stay. I can protect the people I care about and it will be okay. I have made it this far without pills. _

“But unhappy,” Maxine points out, unable to help herself, unhappy too.

Five smiles again. It doesn’t reach her eyes.  _ Did you read the background in my file? _ And when Maxine shakes her head:  _ I was diagnosed when I was eight. I didn’t get medication until I was fifteen. I had pills for seven months before D day. I will not take away medication I don’t need from people who do. I won’t. _

The admission makes Maxine’s mouth go dry. Eight. Eight years old. She can’t even imagine Five being eight years old. She tries to picture a scowling child, hardened already by life’s hardships and the glitches in DNA she can’t control, and can’t quite manage it.

Five nods once, as if confirming Maxine’s thoughts, but the doctor gives her a small smile. “Five,” she starts, gently, “I can’t even begin to understand what it’s like.” The teen remains guarded, sensing a catch—even though there isn’t one. “There was a time when I suffered through a few depression episodes myself. And I know it’s not the same, I know “once upon a time” doesn’t even come close to how you feel every day since you were  _ eight.” _

_ As long as I can remember, _ Five confirms.

Maxine takes a breath. “That said, you have to know that Dr. Mulligan and I discussed it and we can afford to part with the medication you need. We have balanced it, compared notes, determined probabilities. Between you and the other Runners, we have and will probably continue to have the resources to spare, with plenty left over, to get you started on Zoloft and Trazodone. And if we run out, then we run out, and I will let you know far ahead of time so we can either replenish supplies or wane you off it so you don’t have to cold turkey it, but the point is, I am offering you this because I can  _ afford _ to, because I have the ability to and because I want to. Because you are my friend and I care about you, and even if you can’t be happy I can at least help you stabilize.”

Five’s still waiting for the  _ but, _ and Maxine smiles. “So what do you say?”

_ You’re sure. You’re sure it won’t hurt anybody. _ Five holds Maxine’s gaze as the doctor nods, and her eyes suddenly fill with tears.  _ Okay, _ she signs,  _ okay, okay, okay, okay. _

Maxine opens her arms, and Five—so adverse to touch—throws herself into them.

Eight years old, Maxine thinks, stroking Five’s hair as the Runner cries soundlessly into her chest.  _ Jesus. _

-

Two months later and Five shows up in the lab, rapping her knuckles to grab Maxine and Paula’s attention. 

“Five!” Maxine exclaims, getting up off the bar stool. “Come on in, honey, we were just discussing names for the baby.”

The teen arches her brows.  _ Without Sam? _

“Oh no, he’s given us his input,” Paula says with a laugh, holding up the list of names the radio operator had scrawled out. “I can’t even read most of these.”

Five grins—the expression lights up her entire face, and even though Maxine’s had months to get used to it the change still surprises her. She looks so much younger smiling like that.  _ Maybe I can help, _ she signs, pulling up a stool herself.  _ I can read anything. _

“I don’t know, Five.” Paula clucks her tongue and turns the paper towards her. “This chicken scratch is worse than Maxie’s when she’s rushing.”

“Unkind,” Maxine says, giving her girlfriend a smack on the shoulder. She smiles at Five. “Anyway, we still got a ways to go before we have to worry about that. How are you doing? Really?”

The teen ducks her head, a show of bashfulness that usually comes from people showing they care about her. She still hesitates, unsure of anything that appears to be free and without consequence, but around Maxine she’s relaxed exponentially.  _ I’m good, _ she signs, one-handed.  _ Very good. I think they’re working. _

“Well that’s good,” Maxine says, beaming. “Dr. Mulligan told me that you seem brighter and more regulated, too, so score one for us, right?”

Five nods, somewhat jerkily, glancing up and then away in the same second. Maxine doesn’t press, and sure enough the teen continues haltingly.  _ I wanted to say thank you. I’d forgotten what it was like to be this high. I’m sorry I fought you on it. _

“Five,” Maxine starts gently, “I can’t fault you for not wanting to take away resources from people. That was really noble of you. But you know that even if we were low on medication, I still would have given it to you, right?”

That brings out a spectacular frown of disapproval from the teen, but Maxine holds up a hand so she can finish. “Because regardless of you being important to the Township, you are important to  _ me. _ And I want you to be okay. Actually I want you to be happy, but, you know. Baby steps.”

“The same goes for me too, Five,” Paula adds.

Five smiles at floor. Maxine reaches out and squeezes her arm once, aware that a good chunk of her mothering towards the teen is pure hormones—but honestly, if she can get in good practice and give Five a piece of the childhood she’d never had at the same time, then she isn’t complaining.

And neither is Five, despite the awkwardness that comes with accepting gifts she doesn’t think she deserves. But they’re working on it, and that’s all that really matters.

Five reaches again for the paper and glances through it. Then she points at a name and fingerspells it for them.

“Sara,” Maxine reads, trying it out. Warmth spreads through her as she ponders the name. Paula grabs her hand, soft and sweet and real and  _ here. _ Maxine smiles at Five. 

“It’s perfect,” she says.

**Author's Note:**

> This is vent fic. Even knowing it's fiction, Five is still me (just more badass, obviously), and baring myself and all my insecurities is hard. I was born into a family that strongly disapproved of medicating - and a father who disapproved of therapy, go figure - so I didn't get them until I was eighteen. I, on the other hand, am a strong believer of modern medicine and when I finally got them I was so relieved I cried the first day because it felt like I could THINK for the first time in my life.
> 
> It's been eight or so months since I lost them again and I haven't been doing well. I expressed my desire to get back on them and got the standard answer from my family - it's addictive, it's got terrible side effects, it could cause liver failure, blah blah blah. Sometimes you just need someone to say the right thing for once. Sometimes you just need someone who will listen and then believe you when you say this is what you need, this is important to you, this will fix it. Sometimes you just need someone who will do nice things for you because they care about you.
> 
> But hey, it's fiction for a reason.


End file.
